


In Another Form

by adjovi



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 03:55:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17891018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adjovi/pseuds/adjovi
Summary: Quentin tells Margo that Eliot is still alive in there.Written for @themagiciansreccenter fear and bravery prompt.





	In Another Form

**Author's Note:**

> “Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.”  
> ― Rumi

Fucking shit. Pretty much the grand summation of life at the moment. They were standing outside of Marina’s penthouse, and Josh, bless him and his little patchouli smelling soul, held out a joint. “Thank fuck.”

“M’lady.” Josh did a little bow, and she felt an odd mix of irritation and fondness.

This was good shit--she felt the initial effects softening the edges, turning down the volume on the world. Just a little. She hoped it would be enough. “Well, let’s get this over with so we can get back to my befucked kingdom.”

Her eyes immediately sought out Eliot, running on instinct. Old habits and all that. The Monster was lounging in the gold chair, which, admittedly, was a boss move. He was holding one of those rock things that he had pulled out of Bacchus. Quentin, Julia and Penny were leaning on the little kitchen bar. She frankly had no idea how Quentin was still even in the game at this point. The favorite pet. When Quentin saw her, he rushed over, pulling her into a hug. “Oh, we’re doing this now?” Belying her words, she did squeeze him warmly. Quentin always gave good hug.

He turned her so he could keep eyes on the Monster, and urgently whispered in her ear. “I need to talk to you. Alone.” Then, stepping back, nodded once, his voice at regular volume. “Good to see you, Margo.”

Margo had to smile when Josh came in for a hug, too. “Oh, hi.” Quentin opened his arms awkwardly for him anyways.

Josh smacked him on the back. “Good to see you, too, Q.”

“Oh. You’re back.” The Monster sauntered over, wrapping his arms around Quentin’s shoulders from behind. She could tell Quentin was trying very hard not to react or move away, but his eyes told volumes. They looked--not dead, exactly. Defeated? It made her fucking heart hurt. “Are you here to help? They've been helping me.” He looked at Quentin proudly.

She wondered briefly what terrible errands Quentin had been forced to bear witness to. “Actually. _We’re_ looking for help.” She leaned on the back of the sofa, mind whirling on how she could get Quentin alone. “What’s the library like here?”

“Eh, not great. Marina swiped some stuff from a couple Hedges.” Julia had walked over to join their little tableau. “We went to Brakebills to use their Library to find out about those.” She nodded at the rock or whatever in the Monster’s hands.

“What're you looking for?” The Monster stepped around Quentin to come before her. “You helped me. I'm supposed to help you now.”

“Books on talking animals?” Margo studied her nails. “You know anything about that?”

She could tell he was bored already and over the novelty of helping. “No. I don't like books.” He walked away, slumping back into the chair and staring at the fucking rock, making the runes on it glow faintly. Her fairy eye _ached_.

“Wanna show me what’s in the Library here?” She directed this at Quentin.

“Yep. Come on.” Josh moved to follow them, but she shook her head tightly, and he stepped back without another word. Quentin slid the pocket door open, letting her in, then slid it closed behind her. He made a beeline for an old record player, putting on something with lots of fast violins--Vivaldi, maybe?

“Ok, what’s with the cloak and dagger, Nancy Drew?”

He took her gently by the arm, smiling softly to her, his eyes alight. She felt something foreign twist in her belly. “He’s alive, Margo. Eliot’s alive in there.”

She felt like she had been gut-punched. “The fuck you say?” Quentin lightly tugged her arm, inviting her to come and sit next to him on the couch.

He was looking at her so earnestly, so hopeful. Her heart was breaking for him. “Margo. I _saw_ him.”

She couldn’t help but feel tender around Quentin. He was like one giant exposed underbelly, but like with his whole body. “Q, I know you want to believe--”

“No, Margo. It was only for a couple of seconds. But it was him. Somehow, he fought his way to the surface. And--” His eyes were shining.

“What if it was a trick?” She couldn’t let herself hope, couldn’t afford to.

“It wasn’t a trick. I don’t even think the Monster knew what happened.” He swiped the back of one hand over his nose.

Margo leaned over, placing a hand over Quentin’s knee. “But, puppy, how did you know it was him?”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “By what he said to me.”

She made a ‘come on’ gesture with her hand. “What’d he say?”

Quentin did pull back from her then, scooting himself backwards, his voice low. “It’s--private.”

“Eliot used his few seconds of free time to talk dirty to you?” Margo raised an eyebrow, considering. “Ok. Well, that’s actually pretty much in character, so--”

Quentin rolled his eyes. “No. He didn’t. That’s not--”

She smacked his arm playfully. “Then what, bitch?” He just stared at her stubbornly. “Oh, please. Like he doesn’t tell me every fucking thing about every fucking thing. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

He got up from the couch, wrapping his arms around himself. Shielding himself, she realized. He swallowed thickly. “I very much doubt he told you about this.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he did. It doesn’t matter. I knew it was him, ok.”

She stood and walked over to him, placing her hand on his arm. “He finally own up to being in love with you?” He took in a gasp, his face completely falling, and-- “What? I mean you had to know, right?”

He took a step back from her, and honest to gods if he started fucking crying she was going to--she didn’t know. It wouldn’t be pretty for either of them. “Margo. You’ve got it all wrong.”

“Got what all wrong? That Eliot has been pining for you since, like, the first time you met?” Quentin kept stepping away from her, eyes wide with _pain_ and trained on the floor. She began to understand that maybe she was missing a giant fucking piece of this particular puzzle. She felt an irrational flash of jealousy that she quickly doused, reading the naked hurt on Quentin’s face. The way he seemed to be folding into himself. “Q?”

His eyes flicked up to hers briefly before sliding away. He slunk back to the couch. “Doesn’t matter, ok. Just--he’s alive. So, like, we need to figure out how to evict that fucker that’s currently set up shop in there.”

He was definitely giving her strong keep-away vibes, arms wrapped around his knees, and why he couldn’t just sit like a normal fucking person? She had shit to do and really didn’t have time to be examining how these two fucknuts had likely torpedoed their own happiness when they should be figuring out, gods, _all_ the other fucking shit. And, so what if the draw was strong to lean into Quentin’s pain as a diversion from her own? He didn’t have to suffer through the lay bed, silent sheep choir and whatever else in the hellscape of Fillorian formal mourning traditions. She sat next to him, gentling her voice, but keeping in the edge to let him know that she knew he had a part in whatever this shitmire he was currently in, too. Because, Quentin was a moron and generally terrible at all the things. “So. What did he say?”

“Margo. Just--” He let his head fall to the back of the couch. “Drop it, ok.”

She kicked him lightly with her crossed leg. “Well, you obviously have been obsessively stewing over it so--”

She was surprised to see anger pass over his features. So quickly she almost missed it. But, it was there. “We had a conversation once. He _reminded_ me of bits of it.” He sighed heavily. She didn’t like feeling left out, most especially where Eliot was involved, but pushing further wouldn’t be productive at this point. “Look, I didn’t believe it at first. God. I was trying to send his body away, Margo. _Forever_. I thought he was dead.” He took in a shaky breath, sitting a little straighter, turning to look directly at her. “I think you should know this, too. The Monster lies. He told me he felt when Eliot’s soul left his body.”

She closed her eyes, the grief rolling within her like a thick, black wave. “Well, he is a _Monster_ , so.”

“It just--kind of came out of left field. Like I was trying to process my dad’s death, and he kind of, I dunno.” He shrugged. “Dropped by? And then bizarrely tried to help me? And, he kind of--did.” He unfolded his knees and let his feet hit the floor, leaning forward. “And then, out of nowhere. Oh, by the way, Eliot’s dead. Now you can be _my_ friend.”

She laid a hand between his shoulder blades, hunched forward as he was. If pain were visible, she would see it radiating from him; the music far too fucking joyful for any of this. “I’m sorry, Q.”

He swallowed, licking his lips. “Me too.” He held out his arms to her, and she allowed herself to be held, staring into nothingness, breathing him in and out. She hadn’t lied to Fen. She couldn’t allow herself to cry. But, she could let him share a bit of the burden of simply fucking existing in a world without Eliot. She pushed back from him so she could catch his eyes.

“Ok. So, plan is. We get Eliot back. And, then, you two have a real conversation.”

His eyes slid away and she watched in horror as he physically broke in front of her. “We already did.”

He didn’t have to say another word. She _finally_ got it. She threw her head back to the ceiling. “Jesus wept, that man is the fucking stupidest idiot in the entire universe.”

“Margo--” His voice sounded shredded.

“Christ on a crutch.” She sighed, placing her hand on his knee in an attempt at comfort. He accepted it, placing his hand over hers. She turned slightly. “You of all people know that Eliot’s terrified of anything remotely real. And, Q, you’re as real as it gets.”

He blinked a few times. “Yeah, but, you know, you’re really terrifying. And, he loves you.”

“Thanks.” She quirked the corners of her mouth into a grin. “But, you know it’s not the same for us.” She flipped her hand over so he could thread his fingers through. All along, she had thought Quentin was a fool with a hero complex; she hadn’t realized how brave he actually was. “So. Do you still--”

He took in a shaky breath. “God. I tried not to. I tried so fucking hard, Margo.” He squeezed her hand once. “I thought I would just throw myself into the quest and move on. But the thing was, I fucking _missed_ him.”

She nodded, and a sudden, awful thought wormed its way into the front of her brain. “Holy fuck. You were going to be the jailer at Castle Grayskull _forever_ because of a _broken heart_?”

He snorted. “No. I realize that I am pretty pathetic, but I’m not _that_ pathetic. I thought I was bringing back all of magic.” At her skeptical look, he pushed on. “Ok. So maybe that was _one_ factor, but Jesus. His ego is big enough as it is.”

“Point.” She squeezed his hand one last time before pulling away. “New plan: save that asshole, hug it out, then I kick his ass.”

Quentin almost laughed, the corners of his mouth doing that thing that hinted at a dimple. “See--terrifying.”

The pocket door slid back with a slam, and the Monster sauntered in. Her chest twisted with anger at the unfairness of it all. Fucking Eliot and his tragic ride-or-die for the people that he loved. She got it; she would have walked through the fire to save his fucking ass, still might. But, didn’t Quentin _get that_ , too? The Monster looked at the both of them. “You’re not reading books.”

Quentin shifted next to her, and up close, she could see it. The way he shut down, the light going out from behind his eyes. “No. We’re talking. That’s what friends do.”

The Monster drifted closer, directing this at her. “You're sad about Eliot. Are you done yet?”

Margo leaned forward, ready to launch into him, but Quentin placed a gentle hand on her arm. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. “People need time.”

He turned to look at Quentin. “Well. We need to go. Say goodbye.”

“Where?” Quentin sounded so fucking tired.

The Monster smiled at him. “Norway. There’s a very _tricky_ god there.”

Quentin sighed. “Well, it’s a bucket list item, so.” He turned towards her, and she wanted to fucking punch the wall. “Good luck. Penny can probably get you into Brakebills. I’ll doubt you’ll find what you’re looking for here.” But she _had_ found something here. Something she thought was dead and gone. He hugged her quickly, whispering again. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, Q.” She wished she could just stop this fucking charade, to bring Quentin with her. Do anything. He stood and walked over to stand next to the Monster, a sick fucking joke, a tragic parody. The Monster touched Quentin’s arm, and they blinked out of sight. “Well, fuck.”


End file.
